Ubiety
by Frost Deejn
Summary: "Subject 9" from Peter's perspective.


Disclaimer: I don't actually know much about string theory. Also, _Fringe _is not mine

**Ubiety**

The last thing he remembered clearly was standing in the Statue of Liberty exhorting both sides to work together to fix the rift in the universe.

No, that was just the last thing he remembered that made sense.

Maybe, he speculated, taking the machine to the other universe had caused some kind of rift that tore him out of normal space-time. That explanation seemed likeliest of the many he'd hypothesized.

He knew Walter and Olivia would be trying to figure out what had happened to him, and find some way to undo it. After all, he'd disappeared right in front of their eyes. That would raise a few questions. Walter had torn a hole into another universe to rescue him before, and Olivia had used her latent powers to cross over to find him. Between the two of them, they would think of something.

These were the things he told himself to keep away the swirling despair.

Peter knew a lot about physics, and he was familiar enough with string theory to know that the things he was experiencing proved string theorists were on to something. Things that shouldn't have existed outside the abstract realm of mathematics, equations where 2+2 didn't come close to equaling 4 and E=MC square dissolved against counter-temporal antimatter. When he learned of the other universe, he'd never assumed there were only two, but he couldn't name the directions he could see from here.

In other words, he was completely lost.

There were multiverses, plural. Billions, googolplexes of realities. Dimensions of pure math, pure thought, pure light, auroras of gravities, more than one of everything, and things that might have come straight out of H.P. Lovecraft's bizarrest nightmares.

But he could also see Walter and Olivia. Not see, but feel, a connection to them that was not strong, but was clear enough to follow.

He saw the lab. Walter was there, but something was different. "Walter," he said.

His father continued his work, giving no indication of having heard him.

"Walter. Listen. Walter!"

Still nothing.

Peter reached for him, and discovered he didn't have a hand. He wasn't even sure he was there.

But then Walter looked up and started screaming.

It took Peter a minute to figure it out: Walter had seen him. He must have thought he was dead, had died as a result of crossing universes with the machine. Losing his son again had unbalanced his mind, and now he thought he was seeing a ghost. Or going crazy, more likely.

"I'm not dead," Peter explained. "I don't know what happened, but I need your help. I need you to help me get back. Walter!"

If Walter could hear him, he couldn't hear him over his own screams.

And then Peter slipped away again, was pulled back to the interstice between dimensions.

Time and again Peter fought his way back to Walter's lab. Fought was perhaps the wrong word. Strength meant nothing here, incorporeal as he was. It was his knowledge of physics and mathematics that allowed him to navigate this place, calculate his way through interdimensional geometries to figure out the direction to shoot his mind to end up back in the lab.

He knew Walter could see him, could sense him. But he refused to believe he was real.

It was difficult to exist here. And he began to suspect that he shouldn't exist. Something was maintaining him, reifying him. It wasn't until he saw Olivia that he realized it was her. Somehow, her power of crossing dimensions combined with her intense longing for him was acting as a kind of tether, drawing him back to his reality even as the winds of the void threatened to sweep him away. He felt her presence like a physical rope. It was strongest when she slept.

His sense of time had become distorted. He had no idea how long it had been since he went away. He had difficulty distinguishing what was real from what wasn't. He didn't even know if the distinction between real and unreal was a concept that applied to his current situation. Were those nightmares or was he swept through horrifying and haunting alternate dimensions, other worlds? Were those wishes, or actual momentary glimpses of Olivia?

The air was still, and chill, but the sunlight delivered a warming balm from the cloudless sky.

The woman was tall and skinny, with light tan skin and long dark brown hair and wide eyes. She lifted her coffee mug to her lips.

The green park to the left was empty and still, as was the parking lot between. They were sitting at a table outside a coffee shop, the Sonohara Hut, according to the sign on the window.

"It's funny how often trying to fix a mistake just ends up making it worse," she commented. The smoke from her cigarette curled upward through the still air. "They should really learn to just leave well enough alone."

"They?" Peter repeated questioningly. His elbows were propped on the table, he held his own cup of coffee close enough to smell its aroma.

"You know," she waved her hand carelessly. "They have their rules against interfering, but if you know anything about the Hawthorne effect or Heisenberg uncertainty principle you know you can't observe something without interfering with it." She smiled. The shape of her eyes reminded him of Olivia's, but there was a glint of laughter in them, like she was teasing him or sharing a joke at the expense of the rest of the world with him, that reminded him more of the alternate Olivia. "As for the likes of us, we don't have anything against interfering with events. It's impossible to really predict the future, so you might as well screw with it as much as possible. Am I right? After all, it's the only way to avert the inevitable."

He took a sip of the hot coffee, taking a long moment to savor it and think about what was going on. "I have to go back," he stated.

"No you don't. You don't _have_ to do anything." She leaned toward him, and said quietly, "You've only begun to see the possibilities."

"My father needs me. Olivia needs me."

"Olivia can take care of herself. You know that."

"But I don't want her to have to."

She tapped her smoldering cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. The autumnal sunlight was a little too yellow. This wasn't real. This was something else.

"So what you mean is that you want to go back."

"Yeah. But I don't know if I can."

"Well, you know what they say: heaven wouldn't be heaven if you couldn't leave."

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone say that before."

"Oh really? I guess people don't have much reason to say that where you're from."

A slight breeze brought them the scent of a nearby broom tree in bloom.

Peter had seen the end of the world, and the death of the woman he loved, which had felt like his own personal end of the world, and now he could see the ends of universes, the ends of times. He was dragged across them, swept away in a dizzying blur of things he couldn't comprehend.

But he could still feel the pull of Olivia. No matter where he was in all the worlds, he could feel her.

It was in a universe of endless emptiness when he figured out a method of astral projection by using the strength of his bond with Olivia to create a four-dimensional ripple, through which he might be able to interact with the physical dimension. He made his way back to her.

There she was, asleep in her bed. He moved toward her, reaching toward her. Blue light from somewhere flickered on her face.

Just before he reached her, the alarm clock woke her up. He touched her arm as she shot up in bed.

She grabbed her gun, with a swiftness that startled him, and aimed it at his face.

His concentration broke, and he was yanked out of her dimension.

She had seen him. That was promising. He was getting closer.

He worked his way back again. Olivia was in her bathroom. He created the ripple again. It took him longer to make this time.

She looked in his direction. "Astrid!" she shouted.

"Olivia, can you hear me? It's me, Peter. Please hear me."

There was a strange blue light behind Olivia's head. It wasn't until she ducked that he realized it was him, more accurately his space-time ripple. So _that's _what she saw.

Metal objects flew out of her medicine cabinet into him.

Once again, Peter lost energy to maintain the ripple, and it collapsed.

All she saw was a blue light. She didn't even know it was him. How could he communicate with her?

It took him longer to find her the next time. She was sitting in a cafe with Walter.

As he began to create the ripple, he saw metal objects in the room beginning to move toward him, but he wasn't going to let himself get distracted this time. If he could only get close enough to her, he felt, she would recognize him. Then she and Walter could figure out a way to pull him the rest of the way through.

It was his only hope.

He was aware that people were screaming and running. Olivia and Walter stood, staring at him.

"Olivia, Walter. It's me. I'm here."

Olivia turned and shot out the window behind her. She pulled Walter out to the sidewalk. He followed them, trying to move slowly to avoid scaring her.

And then a car turned the corner, speeding in her direction. It's brakes squeaked, but as she jumped out of the way it swerved, the metal in it being drawn to the electromagnetic field Peter's ripple was causing.

The metal hitting him disrupted the field, dispersing the ripple.

Peter cried out in frustration and an almost physical pain at being separated from Olivia again.

He was getting so close. He could feel it. He was getting better at creating the ripples. Maybe he could form it into the shape of his body; she would recognize him. He just needed to get her to understand, and it would be over.

The next time he found her she was in the hallway of an apartment building. She and Walter were talking to a man he didn't recognize, probably investigating some fringe case.

He created a new ripple and came toward them, concentrating on shaping the ripple into a human form.

The man standing next to her yelled. A wave of energy burst from him and struck Peter with a force even stronger than the car hitting him.

This time he found himself in a primordial nebula. He wasn't sure if he was still in the same dimension. He doubted it, as it was statistically far more likely he'd landed somewhere else. If he had a physical body and air to breath, he would have sighed or wept in sheer frustration. He wanted his old life back. He didn't want to be swept from universe to universe for the rest of his life. Or afterlife? Whatever this was. Without a body, could he even die? Would he cease to exist if he couldn't make it back?

He tried again. Navigating the superstrings back to his own dimension. He found Olivia near a power grid terminal. Walter and the other man he'd seen before were also there.

The electromagnetic fields being emitted from the power lines felt like a violent river splashing against him. He fought against it, figuring out a way to used the power from the grid to help him form the ripple. He went up to Olivia slowly, pausing in front of her and directing the ripple into the shape of his face.

The other man with them was trying to fight against him, trying to force the energy to crush him. But he couldn't leave. Even if it killed him, he couldn't willingly leave Olivia.

Her eyes widened with dawning recognition: she knew him.

"You..." she whispered.

He wanted to kiss her.

But the force being directed from the other man was debilitating. He felt like every fiber of his being was being torn away one by one.

"Cameron, destroy it!" Walter shouted.

"Cameron, stop," Olivia said. When he didn't, she started growing frantic. "Cameron! Stop, Cameron!"

He didn't.

"Cameron!" Pointing her gun in the air, she fired a shot.

The force of Cameron's emotions pushed Peter away, but at the same moment Olivia's power to cross dimensions latched onto him, pulling him back to her...

Back into her reality.

He felt his body become physical, though reverberating with pain and cold. He was wet. He was in water. He couldn't breath, which was suddenly a problem.

He swam to the surface. He was in a wilderness lake, with the real sun shining on him, real air in his lungs.

There were fishermen in a boat nearby. They saw him and started rowing toward him. He couldn't believe how much every cell in his body ached. But he didn't care.

The fishermen, a bartender from a nearby town and his son, gave Peter some clothes and drove him to a hospital. After being checked out, and being informed he was suffering from malnutrition and exhaustion, he asked for a phone. He couldn't remember Olivia's number, so he called the FBI, and had an unexpectedly difficult time getting them to transfer him to either Olivia or Broyles. He tried to explain he was a consultant with Fringe Division, but no one he talked to could find confirmation for his credentials, and they all denied there even was a Fringe Division. He was put on hold for over an hour. Finally he got Broyles' secretary, who told him she would deliver the message and they would be in touch.

As soon as he was off the phone, exhaustion overcame him. He stood staring out the window, thinking about the things that had happened to him, trying to make sense of it all. Could it have been a crazy dream? Maybe he'd fallen into the lake, been knocked unconscious, somehow lost his clothes, and imagined the whole thing. His memory could barely keep anything straight. It felt exactly like trying to remember a dream.

He heard footsteps entering his room, and turned to see Olivia. Relief washed over him.

"Olivia," he breathed. "Thank God you're here."

She stared at him in confusion, as if trying to place him. She shook her head slightly. "Who are you?"

His heart sank. He knew he looked like his old self. He'd checked in a mirror, repeatedly. What was going on? What the hell was going on?


End file.
